


as i'm about to enter your world

by robinauts



Series: futile devices [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Birthdays, F/F, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, cheek touching and blushing and besotted internal monologues... you know. the GOOD stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinauts/pseuds/robinauts
Summary: It's the first year of a long journey, but more importantly it's Lucretia's birthday.In rhyme: two women pine and share a bottle of wine. Lucretia has feelings she tends to over-define. Lup is, of course, divine.





	as i'm about to enter your world

**Author's Note:**

> this was written a while back for a fic meme - "did you think i forgot?" the original post is [here](http://flovvright.tumblr.com/post/164508296514).
> 
> all i seem capable of writing is these two making cow eyes at each other. there's an alternate universe where i've written five fics of them making out on every surface on the starblaster.
> 
> the reason i finally tidied this up and published this is because of [@sloanes' adorable art of it!! check it out!!](http://ladygrit.tumblr.com/post/164754519117/at-lucretias-silence-mildly-stunned-but) i meant to publish this for their lupcretia weekend but college obliterated my sense of time
> 
> title is from "moon" by sufjan stevens (and friends)

Lucretia is bent over her journal, adding supplementary sketches to her description of how the animals in this world construct their huts, when a bottle of red wine is plonked down in front of her.

The hand holding it has vivid red nails, and her eyes trail up a tan arm and a red sleeve to see a beautiful, proud face that she has been unable to keep from glancing at for the past seven months.

“Happy birthday, Lucy!” Lup crows, and a burst of confetti erupts from her palm and showers down around them.

Lucretia raises an eyebrow, batting confetti away from her face. “Don’t call me Lucy,” she says near-automatically, in the same tone she’d used with saccharine grade school teachers, to overly-familiar male colleagues, to condescending clients. Except now it's... different, because Lup is none of those things.

Lup is very brave, and very impassioned, and Lucretia suspects she may secretly be a star. People like Lucretia tend to orbit around people like Lup (if there’s anyone else in existence like Lup); the way Lup seeks her out isn’t the way she’s used to things playing out. Lucretia knows how to trace the constellations, but not how to stare at the sun. Still, she summons up what strength she can to look Lup square in the face and ask, “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

Lup perches on the edge of her desk, her feet dangling by Lucretia’s knees, leaning back on her hands. Lucretia remembers her sitting like this at the Institute, the sleeves of her blouse rolled up as she lectured to rapt graduate students. Lucretia had sat in the back of the hall, sitting in so she could get a feeling for her biographical subjects, and within fifteen minutes she’d understood why everybody in the country clamored to get into her classes.

Lup grins, looking proud of herself. “I had a sneak peek at the personnel files back before we took off.”

“You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Wild card!” Lup clicks finger guns at her, and then pulls two wine glasses from seemingly nowhere. “And anyway, you knew everything about us. I wanted to know a little about you.”

Lucretia sighs, trying to shove down the flutter of delight that starts causes a commotion in her chest. No sense in getting her hopes up. She’s learned that lesson. Lup makes her mind race to much as it is; letting her heart get the same way will doom her. “Well, I can’t imagine it was very interesting,” she says, uncorking the bottle of wine and carefully filling both glasses to a respectable two thirds. “I’m honestly surprised you remembered something like my birthday, what with all that’s happened.”

Lup frowns, and pauses. Her glass stills, inches from her mouth. “Did you think I’d forget?”

At Lucretia’s silence (a silence that reeks of being caught off guard, but humiliating in its too-obvious meaning of _who hasn’t? Who has ever bothered to remember? I didn't think you would be any different - maybe especially you, you are bright and loud and magnetic and I am quiet and unobtrusive and unimportant, you are here to act and I am here to watch, of course I didn't think you would care about me,_ and all sorts of other embarrassing truths that Lup would never think because she is stronger and braver and better), Lup sets down her wine glass and places her hand on Lucretia’s cheek.

“You’re part of this crew too, Lucretia,” she says assuredly, pinning Lucretia in place with her golden eyes, and Lucretia feels like she’s melting, dissolving, Lup’s hand is warm and soft and sure, like she means the motion, like Lucretia means something to her. “Make sure you put yourself down in those journals as well, so everyone who’ll read them will remember how great you are.”

Lucretia can’t think of anything to say - can barely _think_ , except some thankfulness that her blushes don’t really show - but oh _no_ Lup _must_ be able to feel the heat of her cheeks - but then Lup’s eyes widen and she coughs and - Lucretia must be imagining the flush on the tips of her ears, she must be. Lup’s hand darts away, back to her side, and Lucretia can see her hand flexing, once, twice.

Lup picks up her wine glass again and takes a quick sip, and then makes a face. “Ugh.”

Lucretia picks up the other glass, because that’s what she knows to do right now. “Is it not good? Wait. How did you even _get_ this? Did you smuggle it on the ship?”

“I wish I had remembered to,” Lup sighs, lip curling as she examines the bottle. “Nah, I got Taako to transmute this for me. He made me some two buck chuck. Asshole.”

Then her face flies into distress. “I mean! - I didn’t tell him it was for your birthday, he was just being a dick to _me,_ it’s got nothing to do with you, he likes you just fine! We all do!”

Lucretia can’t help it: she chuckles, and then takes a sip of the horrid wine. “Ah - oh fuck, that is _awful.”_

Lup rolls her eyes. “Right? Oh! Oh wait, fuck! We gotta clink!”

“Do you mean toast?”

“Toast means bread. _We_ are clinking glasses.”

Then they clink glasses, and Lucretia has the biggest smile she can remember having in at least a year, maybe more.

And Lup is smiling too, bright and sincere, and that's worth the suns, the stars, and every word Lucretia has ever written.

-

A hundred and five years later, Lucretia pours one glass of red wine. She drinks it very slowly. It tastes good, and she hates it.

She stands by the window of her office, looking down at this world below that she orbits ceaselessly. Somewhere on it, there is a body. She hasn’t found it yet. She’s starting to think that she never will.

She does her best not to cry.

She can’t let herself forget.


End file.
